


Mistaken Identities

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Confusion, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Humor, Seduction, Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna goes hunting for the Doctor and finds something/someone else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own the hotel, the bed, the bed sheets, the alarm clock, the… Hopefully you are getting the picture by now.  
>  **A/N:** originally written for my friend **sierralove2008** in order to wish her a very “Happy birthday!”  
>  **A/N2:** the illustrations were beautifully supplied by the very talented and generous **dreamerbee**.

With trepidation, and increasing irritation that the Doctor had buggered off somewhere without her, that Donna cautiously sneaked in through the kitchen door that had been left ajar and entered the darkened interior beyond. She had followed her trail of investigation to enter this rather large house in the middle of nowhere; that’s if you count the middle of Belgravia as being nowhere. In fact it was quite the opposite, because the Queen lived just down the road.

Anyway... Fortunately nobody was about, but there was the distant sound of laughter and general chitchat from the rooms above the servants's staircase that fed off from the cook's domain. Now where could the Doctor have gone? She was sure she had seen him enter through one of the windows on the ground floor, or possibly even the first floor. It was hard to tell when a building had basements like this place did.   

She reached the main level with ease, and took a moment to take in more of her surroundings. The whole effort was beautifully done; with an easy mix of modern and old in complementary shades of the same colours. Still not actually seeing a living soul, she decided to head upwards in search of the Doctor. If he was laying down on some bed having a nap she'd kill him! Nobody laid down on the job when she was around.    
   
It was quiet as Donna slowly crept up an impressive staircase within an equally impressive house. Whoever owned this house clearly had plenty of money and connections, judging by the location, the antiques dotted nonchalantly about the place and the portraits hanging on the walls around her. Most old families had ancestral portraits of old fogeys in hunting gear or with dogs on display, but the owner had gone for photographs of the rich and famous. Weird that. Not your average English Heritage gaff at all.  
   
The floorboards creaked annoyingly as she stepped off the top of the staircase, mentally shushing herself to keep quiet. Nobody was about on the expansive landing, but there was clearly someone in the bathroom, judging by the sounds of someone moving about in the room to the side of her; rinsing out their mouth and then hitting the floor with a loud thump.  
   
There was only one possible person it could be in her mind, so she opened the bathroom door and made her grand entrance.  
   
Sighing with relief, Donna hastily swept into the small room, cautiously closing the door behind her before she kicked at the black booted foot in front of her and asked her burning question. “Okay Spaceman, what the hell are you doing skulking in here? Give us all the gossip.”

The man who sat on the tiled floor leaning back against the bathroom sink pedestal shoot an extremely angry glare in her direction. “What are you on about, and who the fuck are you?!”

    
She snorted in exasperation. “Don’t play the idiot with me! I know you are working undercover, so _tell_ me. What’s going on with the whole…” There was an explanatory moment where she pointed to his clothing, since he was dressed completely in an unusual mixture of black cotton and leather. “… Demented sock puppet look?”  
   
“Demented sock puppet!” he cried out indignantly. “You’ve got a fucking nerve coming in here and insulting me when I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”  
   
“Truck?” she queried in surprise, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow. “Why are you talking like that?”  
   
“Why do you think?” he petulantly replied. “Sorry,” he added sarcastically, “I should have said ‘lorry’; but I tend to mix with people who can’t spell right most of the time let alone use the proper words for things.”  
   
She frowned at him in utter confusion. This really wasn’t the way he normally spoke. “Are you alright, Doctor?” Donna asked more gently, and dropped down onto her haunches to place a tender hand on his arm; offering her normal brand of support. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll provide it, whatever it is.”  
   
The man in front of her obviously had an idea occur to him. “Anything?” he queried.  
   
“Well, when I say anything, I’m sure you don’t mean I should offer up my future offspring in sacrifice to the temple of the great and mighty Time Lords,” she retorted.  
   
His eyes swept over her in judgement, but he didn’t seem overly disgusted with her, she thought. That surprised her.  
   
“What about your body?” he asked after his visual scan.  
   
What was he on about now? No doubt she had missed something important. “What about my body?”  
   
“Would you let me have your body?” he boldly wondered.  
   
“What on Earth for?! Is this you telling me we’ve got to do some sort of creepy body swap? Because I’m not sure I could cope with yours. It’s a bit high maintenance, even for me, although I would be able to eat whatever I liked,” she pondered as she rambled on, hoping he’d think up a decent alternative. “And the idea of you getting your hands on my chest is a bit unsettling.”  
   
“It’s a very nice chest,” he commented as he stared right at it. “I assure you your chest would thank me for putting my hands there.”  
   
This wasn’t right. The Doctor never spoke this way; not to anyone. So Donna put her hand on his forehead to check his temperature and then moved the back of her fingers to his cheek. “You’re feeling a bit warm. We need to cool you down before we get out of here. It’s sending you loop.”  
   
He continued to stare at this crazy woman in front of him. Obviously she thought he was someone else. Who that was would remain a mystery to him, but there was a burgeoning question in his mind: how could he get her to fuck him? His body had already risen to the bait, and she kept going on about that luscious chest of hers. It was peeping out at him as she leaned forward, and the way her long flowing ginger hair was playing across the exposed creamy skin of her neck was driving him wild. That wasn’t the alcohol speaking; he’d long rid himself of that effect earlier that evening. He’d been sitting there in the bathroom contemplating how he could escape out of this house without being detected, and perhaps this beauty would provide the means.  
   
“I’m not feeling quite myself,” he uttered, wondering quite what he could get away with. He’d have to play it by ear, as usual. “I need to get back to my room in the hotel.”  
   
To his delight she seemed to pounce happily on this information.  
   
“The hotel? Is that where you parked the TARDIS?” she gleefully enquired.  
   
Okay, he decided he’d definitely go along with this scheme. Gawd knows what a Tardis is though. He’d certainly never seen one, let alone driven it. It was probably the latest car from Fords of Europe, and made just down the road in Dagenham. He’d been more than a bit out of touch with British cars lately. “Yes, love,” he quickly answered. “That’s exactly where it is. Can you help me get there?”  
   
Donna snorted her scorn. “Of course I can. Just tell me what you want me to do.”  
   
‘How about we start by having you suck me off and we’ll continue from there,’ he thought. “I need to get out of this place without anyone noticing, so I shall want you to hold me tight and let me snog you. Nobody ever stops a canoodling couple. Can you do that for me?”  
   
“I think so,” she answered cautiously. The thought of the Doctor resorting to this old cliché was more than odd. “I warn you, if you try to cop a feel I shall slap you one; hard.”  
   
“You will?” He then saucily grinned at her. “I rather like the sound of that.”  
   
That made her mind up; he definitely needed to get back to the TARDIS as fast as possible. “Come on, up you get,” she encouraged him as she tugged on his arm. “The sooner we get out of here the sooner you can be home.”  
   
“Ooh, I like a girl that initiates things,” he leered as he pulled himself into a standing position. Unfortunately his sense of balance was still rather off, so he leaned heavily on her. Not that he needed to, mind you; he just wanted to and used it as an excuse. Drunkenness and he were old friends and enemies. They knew each other very well.

She chose that moment to look properly at his hands. “Erm… Doctor, why are you wearing black nail varnish?” she openly wondered.  
   
He flicked his gaze downwards and then dismissed the question as being stupid. “The usual reasons.”  
   
“What reasons…?” she started to ask, and then thought better of it. If he was ill or in disguise then that would explain it; and anything else beyond that she didn’t want to know about just yet. Lowering her hand until she covered his, she gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Which way home?”  
   
“Just follow my lead,” he whispered to her, and steered them down the stairs and into the grandiose hallway below.  
   
At the bottom of the staircase they were suddenly seen by the owner of the grand house, one Rodney Le Strange. “Are you alright, old chap?” he asked Donna’s companion with concern.  
   
Rodney’s concern was immediately waved off with an arrogant sneer. “I certainly am! This little darling has agreed to join me tonight, Rodders.”  
   
“Is that Peter you’re talking to, Rodney?” a woman called out from a nearby doorway as she stood to frame herself there for maximum impact.  
   
“Oh shit!” the man now named as Peter complained quietly to Donna. “It had to be her, didn’t it? Brace yourself, love.”  
   
And then Donna found herself shoved up against the nearest wall with his mouth firmly planted on her lips. She tried to protest at the intrusion, but he had her pinned beneath him. “Doctor,” she managed to gasp out when he eased his hold for a second, but he quickly took repossession of her mouth; halting any further words.

   
It was also rather nice, after the shock had worn off; but she'd never tell him that in a million years. Especially the fact that he had lovely full lips that didn't taste of the gargle he had used. Lips she wouldn't mind kissing if the opportunity ever arose in the future. Christmas, perhaps...  
   
Once it was clear they were on their own again, he finally released her. “Sorry love, but I had to avoid them.”  
   
“A bit of a cliché, ain’t it?” she griped, pressing her fingers to her lips. Why had he gone and done that? Normally he would have talked his way out the situation. Not that he had informed her yet what the situation exactly was. If she didn’t know better she would have said he’d been drugged. “Look Doctor…”  
   
He stopped her talking by placing a fingertip on her lips, shocking her into silence. “For the time being let’s call me ‘Peter’, eh? Can you do that for me?”  
   
Donna nodded. “Okay. But why ‘Peter’?” she asked when she was able to speak again. “I thought you normally chose ‘John’.”  
   
“I fancied a change,” he lied.  
   
“That’s not all you seem to fancy,” she remarked, shoving him away from her body. “Unless this is some bizarre part of your plan; and don’t try to kid me that you’ve got your sonic in your pocket.”  
   
Peter wracked his brain to work out what the hell she was going on about with the ‘sonic’ reference, and all he could think of was a sonic toothbrush. Why would you have a sonic toothbrush, or any other type of one, in your pocket? He decided to go with that all time classic: distraction. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor had been following the trail of the Diklometrons for hours by the time he found himself perched precariously on the window ledge of a first, or possibly second, floor window of an enormous multi storey London house. He’d been so engrossed that he’d forgotten to warn Donna where he was or what he was doing. Oops! He knew that he’d pay for that lapse; probably with some calculated grovelling and several days of tea with toast making duties... 

Even the thought of her disapproval had him quietly planning to take her out somewhere pleasant for a meal at the earliest opportunity; somewhere she could dress up nicely so that he could show her off... I mean, let _her_ show off for a change. Because he would never dream of showing her off, oh no! He especially would not display her like a precious possession that he had carefully kept out of the way of these dangerous Diklometrons. They had a reputation for liking the flesh of beautiful females; saw consuming them as a rite of passage and a great delicacy, so he was determined to keep Donna well out of the way. He was rather fond of her flesh just as it is; all sort of curvaceous, womanly, dappled with freckles and set off perfectly by her beautiful ginger hair. In fact he loved h...her hair; not that he was suggesting that he only valued her hair (which he did) or that it was the only thing that he lo... liked about Donna. The Diklometrons would no doubt find her flesh amazing! Almost too amazing. That’s why he had crept off without her; to protect her assets. You know; the ones that kept her alive. 

He gave a cough as his thoughts were forced back onto the fact he was clinging onto a windowsill where he could be easily detected. Why was he here again? Oh yes, the Diklometrons. Irritating little so-and-so creatures. If he could just get the sash window he was gripping hold of to open, he could maintain a healthy distance between them and his lo… latest companion. With a swish of his sonic screwdriver around the seal of the glass panes, the window lock popped open, and he eased then pulled up the bottom section to allow himself to climb in.

Okay, he practically fell in as his eagerness to deal with his possible quarry overtook him, but it had been an enormous relief. Daylight was fading fast and he needed to discover the creatures before they attacked anyone else. Once darkness completely fell the Diklometrons would be settling down for the night and he needed to find where exactly in the house they were roosting.

The room beyond the windowsill was in relative darkness, lit partially from the hallway outside and an exterior street lamp. A small movement in a near corner caught his attention so he sprung the sonic from his jacket pocket and into usage, and shone it appropriately about. Almost immediately a small sludge coloured hand appeared in the Doctor’s peripheral vision, brandishing a familiar object. ‘What the....?’ he managed to question before a silver handled coal scuttle struck him hard on the back of his head, and he went out like a fading light bulb. One you haven’t remembered to buy a replacement for, unfortunately.

~0~0~

“The gentleman wouldn’t respond when I tried to waken him,” he heard an ancient voice declare defensively, “No matter what I did.”

“Then you should have tried harder,” a petulant female voice responded in crisp, even tones.

The Doctor managed to warily sit up from his position on a large Persian rug and eyed them both as he gave his aching head a consoling rub. “Where am I?” It was better he felt that he start with an obvious question.

Before him stood two women of differing ages and classes; the older one could easily have been the mother of the other in any other situation but in this one she apparently was a servant of some sort. There was no doubt in his mind that they were not friends. The younger woman wore expensive clothing and equally expensive perfume, judging by its overwhelming aroma to his tender senses. They both considered him with indulgent exasperation.

It was the fashion mannequin who spoke first; her words almost exploding out of her. “What you have been playing at all weekend? Did you think your latest ploy to avoid me would work? You are such a child at times.” 

Ah, their timelines were obviously muddled up, because he didn’t know her from Adam yet she seemed to know him quite well. This situation needed careful handling. Stopping his assessment of the bump on his head to consider the finely dressed woman before him for a moment, he thought to ask, “Did I miss a party?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and played anxiously with the stylish gold chain around her neck. “Yes, your launch party, as well you know. I have no idea why you had to go off with that woman.”

Woman? Did she possibly mean Donna? Hopefully she did; and he’d find out what he had previously done and was about to do. It all sounded rather enticing. “Launch,” he dimly repeated. “What type of launch did I miss? I do hope there’s some cake left.” 

The two women exchanged an anxious glance. 

“Should I call a doctor, ma’am?” the servant woman enquired. “He obviously took a whack to the head.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” bling woman answered with a resigned sigh. “He has often passed out like this in the past. No doubt we’ll find an empty bottle or two on the floor somewhere.”

“Madam, I assure you that I am generally immune to the effects of alcohol,” the Doctor informed her haughtily. “My demise was due to being hit by a small creature called a Diklometron; and it is possibly still at large.”

Bling woman sadly shook her head instead of showing him any sympathy. “Just get him a cup of strong coffee please, Sally. We’ll need him up and running by eleven o’clock this evening or we’re all doomed.”

“All doomed, eh?” the Doctor repeated with a grin on his face as he sauntered after Sally the servant woman who had beckoned him to follow her. “Now this is beginning to sound like my kind of party.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Sally whispered to him once they were away and out of earshot of the bling woman. “But you might want to get that head of yours seeing to, as it ain’t right lying about like that unconscious on the floor. You must have been out of it for a good half hour or so.”

He smiled reassuringly back at her. “Thank you, but it takes more than a blow to the head to cause me permanent damage. Why do you think it was at least half an hour ago?” he questioned, since he knew for a fact that he had only been in the house for fifteen minutes. Half an hour previously he had been searching the house next door and found absolutely nothing.

“Because that’s when we thought you had left with that woman,” she supplied. 

This was becoming increasingly intriguing. “What did this woman look like?”

“Have you forgotten already?! Oh yes, the blow to the head.. Well, she was dressed quite normal, not for a dinner party; and she had long ginger hair,” Sally stated. “You was all over her like a rash in the hallway. Miss Caroline was fair busting a gut over it; you’ll be pleased to know. We thought you’d taken her back to your hotel.” 

“Did I?” he murmured, and then changed tack. “I obviously forgot something. This hotel… where exactly is it?”

~0~0~

Donna had assisted ‘Peter’, as she thought he was called, out into the cold, crisp air of the street, and then stood wondering why he was still partially draped all over her. She eyed him cautiously. “While I think to ask, out with it; why are you avoiding the posh bird in the fancy get up?”

“You mean the one with the red dress?” he queried to evade her question; but he could already tell that it wouldn’t work. “She’s Caroline Dangerfield, a top PR woman and executive for the production company that is paying for all this.” He then swirled his finger round in demonstration.

“That tells me who she is, but not why you had to pounce on me in the hallway,” Donna noted.

“Ah, that!” Peter acknowledged as he swayed them slightly. “She’s been coming on strong to me all day, as if I owe her one, and I don’t operate like that. Not unless I’m very drunk. But I have you to thank for getting me out of her pampered clutches.”

She could have done without the possessive squeeze he gave her shoulders. Or that look he kept flashing in her direction; a look of adoration. It reminded her, yet again, that he was probably drugged up to the eyeballs or ailing for something; and he still hadn’t said what his master plan was or where exactly the TARDIS was. “Come on then, Spaceman; what comes next?”

‘Do I need to draw you diagram?’ he wondered incredulously. ‘Now comes the part where I lure you into my room before we fuck like bunnies. And get my name right!’ “Don’t fucking ask me,” he retorted.

So she slapped him.

“I just did, Martian!” she insisted huffily for a moment. This attitude wouldn’t get anything done, she realised so she waited patiently for his solution to this problem. 

His eyes slowly bore into her soul; or so it seemed. He really was out of it, and needed the TARDIS fast! As every minute had passed by Donna’s concern had grown. Shouldn’t he have been recovering by now? The night air should have made him revive his senses but instead he seemed to be slipping deeper into this newly acquired persona. She could almost see new thoughts scurrying through his mind, and it worried her that he seemed so different.

‘Fuck, this is a weird situation,’ he thought as the seconds ticked on and their dynamic seemed to change with each passing moment. “Peter,” he reminded her to say. “I thought we had already agreed you would call me ‘Peter’.”

“Well I did,” she granted, “but I’m starting to wonder if you even know who I am.”

His grip on her shoulder slightly slackened as he considered her. It was time to drop a hint. “You know, you are perfectly correct. What name would you like me to call you, Ginger?”

Anger flared across her features. Of all the cheek! “You can bin that one for a start; as soon as you like, Sunshine! I’ll stick to ‘Donna’, thank you very much.”

So she was called Donna, eh? Peter smiled broadly despite himself. “Donna, darling, don’t be like that. I meant no harm,” he proclaimed as he crooned into her ear and kept an arm tightly around her shoulders. “I will need your very special help once we are back in my hotel room.”

Darling! What?! What the hell was he going on about now: his hotel room? She had just opened her mouth to ask her question when a small creature suddenly scuttled across the pavement in front of her. It was muddy coloured in the sodium lamplight, looking like a cross between a wilting balloon and a sack of potatoes. Six tiny legs were barely discernible beneath its body, propelling it like some decapitated octopus as its two spindly arms reached towards her. Before she could even react it had latched on to her leg, digging in minute claws that bit through her trouser leg and tore into her flesh. Inevitably she howled in shock and pain as some sort of venom entered her bloodstream.

“What the fuck…! Get away from her!” Peter yelled out in shock when he saw blood start to instantly seep through her clothing and down her leg.


	3. Chapter 3

Alas the tiny creature did not withdraw its digit-sitting fangs, even when Peter tried swatting, punching and then kicking it away. None of it was working, and the alien squid thing kept a tight hold of Donna’s leg. But the presence of blood meant that it had sought her out for a particular reason, producing an idea in his head based on past experience. Thinking quickly, he thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, grabbed hold of the contents and stabbed them ferociously into the body of the creature. It was like skewering a joint of beef.

There was an almighty awful screech of pain emitted from its open orifice that was presumably its mouth, followed by mini earth tremor as it convulsed, and then it popped like a water bomb out of existence; to seep away harmlessly into the nearby drain in the road. 

Peter stood panting for a second; bent double whilst clutching his knees, wondering what exactly had just happened as he tried to assimilate events. It was an unearthly being and like nothing he had ever seen before. 

“What did you kill the Dicky metre thing with?” a weak sounding Donna asked him.

To his horror she lay crumpled on the tarmac beside him. 

“Donna!” Peter almost screamed as he rushed to scoop her into his embrace. “Don’t go to sleep yet. We can fix this if you stay with me. Just give me a chance to dial 999.”

In answer she gave out a small moan of pain-filled frustration and forced her eyes open. “You aren’t the Doctor, are you? You’re not really him.”

Peter shook his head, not able to find his voice to admit his illusion. But she merely sighed in resignation.

“What did you use on the Dicky whatever it’s called creature?” she faintly asked him again. “It’s important; I need to know.”

“It was these artefacts,” he replied; and brought out two crucifixes from his pocket. They shone with a silvery cool candescence as they sat on the palm of his hand; six diamonds set in engraved white gold.

She frowned. “Who are you? Buffy the bloody vampire slayer?”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle that swelled up and burst out from his throat. “You could say that,” he confessed. “I’m Peter Vincent,” he then announced as though she ought to know the name.

“Never heard of you,” she gasped painfully out. “Should I have done?”

“Well… I’ve only killed the odd vampire or two, have a famous website devoted to tracking down and vanquishing them; oh and I’m also a headliner in Las Vegas,” he proudly proclaimed.

“Headliner? What did you do? Get caught having sex with prostitutes and Prince Harry?” she teased him; a weak smile hovering on her lips.

“Cheeky cow!” he retorted. “I’m fucking nothing of the sort! I’ll have you know that I’ve had Prince Harry and his cronies come to my show.”

Instead of her biting back in the way he expected, Donna then softly asked him, “Would you stab me with the crucifixes if it comes to it? I don’t want to join the undead.”

Indignation flared in him. “I couldn’t do that to you”

“It worked on the Dicky metro, so it might work on me,” she argued with a wheeze. “And I’m running out of time. I’ve not got long. If the Doctor was really here I’d have stood a chance.”

Peter could not hold in his angry retort. “Why?! What’s so fucking wonderful about this doctor you keep going on about?”

“Everything,” she wistfully responded. “He can do anything.”

An idea occurred to him as he continued to embrace Donna. “Let me try this,” he begged, and he pulled out a small bottle from the inner pocket of his jacket. “It’s holy water, blessed by the Pope himself. What?!” he added when she shot him a sceptical look. “You can buy virtually anything off the internet. I’ll dab some on the crosses and then place them on your wound.”

“Worth a try,” she conceded as she slumped against him, feeling incredibly faint. 

Pressing the anointed crucifixes against the gash on her leg, Peter decided to add to his chances by wetting a finger and running it along her lips. “Just in case this doesn’t work,” he breathily proposed, “I’m also going to do something else.”

Her voice was barely existent. “What’s that?”

“This…” 

His hot wet mouth descended onto hers, and he meshed their lips into a searing kiss. A wonderful buzz shot through her system, blasting out all ill effects. 

It was hard to tell which factor enhanced her recovery; the crosses, the holy water, or the kiss. She really wanted it to be the kiss, because it was divine in its sweetness. Her hands involuntarily reached up to hold him close, and ran a trail through his hair.

“That’s some weapon you’ve got there,” she said when they broke apart.

A broad smug grin spread across his face. “One size fits all, and it’s all yours if you want it.” When a confused frown appeared on Donna’s face, he added, “I really want to fucking make love to you.”

“Why?” she asked, clearly puzzled by his declaration.

“Why do you think?!” he angrily blurted out. “I wanted to fuck you as soon as you stepped into the bathroom. Don’t you know how gorgeous you are?”

“Erm… no,” she answered modestly.

Was there no end to this woman’s ignorance? “What’s the matter with this fucking doctor bloke of yours? Doesn’t he ever tell you that you are beautiful?”

Donna placed a hand on his arm to quell his temper. “He’s not mine; we’re merely friends who travel around the universe together. And he would never say I’m beautiful,” she calmly insisted.

“Then he is a stupid sod that doesn’t know his arse from his elbow!” he stormed.

“He’s not stupid; he’s the most intelligent bloke I’ve ever known. Honestly he is. It’s just….,” she faltered, not wanting to admit her apparent undesirability. “There’s no way he would ever fancy me. Probably got laws against it where he comes from and everything.”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Within his arms lay the most enticing, stunning and arousing woman he had ever had the chance to lay hands on. “Then he is a fucking prat!” he spat out angrily. “I do not understand the man’s problem! If I spent each and every day with you I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself; I’d have shagged you long ago. In fact I would do so whenever the chance came up, if you see what I mean.” He playfully waggled his eyebrows at her, and she inevitably swatted his arm.

“Give over, you tart! Sex is obviously all you think about,” she complained good-naturedly.

“It is when I’m with you. Normally I’d be thinking of my act or the latest promotion,” he declared; his gaze stayed intense as his expression softened. “Look, I know I’m not what you want right now but you’ve had more than a bit of a shock tonight. God knows I have! So would you come back to the hotel with me, have some rest, perhaps a bite to eat, a drink to celebrate you not being brown bread, and generally keep me company for a few hours? I’m being totally honest with you now when I say that I like you, and I don’t want to be alone. _Please_ , Donna.”

How could she resist such a heartfelt plea when he looked at her like that? “Alright then, Peter Vincent, vampire man. I’ll come and keep you company for a couple of hours; but don’t expect anything more.”

The fact was Peter didn’t know what his expectations were anymore. Suddenly all he knew was that he desperately wanted to keep her by his side for as long as humanly possible. He wasn’t prepared to question this alien feeling any further than that. “Let’s grab ourselves a taxi,” he suggested, and helped her to stand before they cautiously headed towards the end of the road where a black cab might pass them by.

  
  
~0~0~

“Thank you for rescuing me,” Donna tried not to gush as she averted her gaze to observe the passing scenery.

“It was nothing,” Peter waved her thanks off.

She quickly snorted her disagreement. “Yeah, so nothing I’d have bled to death if you hadn’t staked that teeny vampire.”

“It was like no fucking vampire I’ve ever seen,” he commented as he tightened his hold on her as they sat on the back seat of the taxi. “It’s just up here on the left,” he called out to the driver as he recognised the brightly lit hotel entrance in the distance. 

“No problem, mate,” the driver said as he pulled up outside the main doors to the hotel. 

A man dressed in the livery of the hotel swept forward to open the cab door and he helped Donna out as Peter paid the fee with a healthy tip. 

“You’re staying here?” Donna asked in awe as she wavered slightly on the pavement, trying to take everything in of this bizarre situation.

“The fuck I am!” Peter quietly boasted as he returned to her side and took hold of her arm. “This is the bit I love. Come and see.”

He guided her into the main reception area and up to the reception desk. The receptionist looked incredibly startled to see him.

“Mr Vincent!” he mumbled. “Good evening, sir. We weren’t expecting you yet. How may I help you?”

Peter grinned knowingly at Donna. “For a start we would like some food sent up to my suite. We’ll both have the steak, and if anyone calls; I’m not here. Is that understood?”

“Yes, perfectly, sir,” the receptionist acquiesced. “Is there anything else I can help you or your friend with?” 

Peter leaned in to whisper a reply, “Yes, make sure breakfast is enough for two in the morning when you delivery it.” He then straightened up and smiled as sweetly as he could at Donna.

She glared back at him for his cheek. “Sounds like you’ll be starving in the morning with all that food.”

“Oh, I aim to work up an appetite,” he smirked confidently back at her as he eased her towards the lifts and away from the eavesdropping receptionist. “Perhaps you can help with that.”

“Sorry, I don’t work as a personal trainer. The Doctor tends to be the one that forces me to run a lot,” she re-joined as they entered the mirrored cell that would take them upwards. “Seriously, there’s an outrageous amount of running involved with living with him.” 

The lift doors whooshed shut, and Peter stood contemplating her.

“What?! Have I got something on my face?” she queried testily.

“Not yet,” he replied. “No, I was just thinking…”

“I wondered where the smell of burning was coming from,” she saucily commented. The gears in his head must have been working overtime with all that added effort. 

“Fuck! You don’t care a sod what you say, do you?” he griped with a grin on his face.

She smirked back at him. “What, and let you think you are God’s gift to women just because you saved my life? Not on your nelly.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he realised how much he was enjoying being in her company. If he could now entice her into the bedroom they’d both enjoy each other a lot more. Every time she shifted in the lift her amble bosom brushed against him, he had a wonderful clear view down her cleavage, not that he hadn’t had numerous opportunities to peer down her front that evening; and her perfume was intoxicating. His body was straining to take advantage of her proximity, and he was sure that it wouldn’t take much for her to do to him before he cum in his trousers. 

“This way,” he almost groaned as the lift doors opened onto the top floor where his exclusive suite resided. Taking a firm hold of her hand, he forced himself not to drag her into his rooms as though he was a caveman with his prey. This would need more subtly than that; plus she was still a bit wobbly from the blood loss.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor made careful notes of the hotel where he had apparently taken a woman earlier that evening. It was becoming increasingly clear to him that it might not have been a future escapade of his but rather a case of mistaken identity. This feeling was heightened when he was ushered into the drawing room and told to sit down, having passed several other people on the way who had stared expectantly at him.

“Why are we here?” he asked Sally who was retreating quickly from the room, having shown him there. 

She merely flicked her gaze meaningfully towards a man stood three paces away from him.

“I hear you had a spot of bother upstairs,” the man commented, “something about hitting your head.”

The Doctor involuntarily brought a hand up to touch the bump that had risen on the back of his skull. “Yes, a minor detour in my hunt.”

“Hunt!” the man snorted. “Is that how you are labelling it now?” 

“Normally, yes,” the Doctor insisted. “I assume you’d use an alternative. I was told there’d be refreshments down here.”

“Of course, old chap,” the man warmly replied. “Have you stashed away your filly for later?”

“Well I…,” the Doctor started to answer, but Caroline Dangerfield appeared in the doorway to interrupt their conversation. He quickly deduced that she tended to gracefully frame herself thus to good effect. 

“Doesn’t he always have someone, Rodney?” she smirked. “He probably has her tucked up in his hotel bed ready and waiting for him when he gets back from this.”

So the man was called Rodney, and they both expected him to be a womaniser. This was worrying for the Doctor. First, it implied Donna had been totally abandoned somewhere; second, that some poor woman had suffered a distraction due to him; and third, he had had to implement such a diversion. No doubt a Diklometron was to blame. 

Rodney had made his way over to the drinks table and was pouring out generous measures into three glasses. “I think we’d all be tempted to have such a lovely piece of ginger totty warming up the bed, eh?” he remarked gleefully, and handed one of the tumblers to the Doctor, who cautiously took it and then placed it immediately down onto the nearest surface.

“This ginger woman you saw me with… what were we doing?” the Doctor tentatively questioned. It couldn’t be her, it just couldn’t! To his consternation Rodney burst into a wide lecherous grin and Caroline looked extremely angry.

“What weren’t you doing?” Rodney’s grin stayed put for some seconds until a thought occurred to him. “Are you saying that you don’t remember pinning her up against the wall? I left you two alone to give you some privacy. It’s not exactly a spectators sport.”

The Doctor spluttered at the insinuation. “Are you suggesting I was kissing her?!” he almost squeaked out, and then coughed to clear his throat. Could he have really been snogging Donna, in the past and his future? Surely not. They didn’t share that sort of relationship. In fact she’d rather avoid that sort of thing altogether. 

Caroline huffed loudly and gracefully deposited her body onto a chair. “It was very far from a suggestion. You were practically drooling over the poor woman. She certainly looked surprised for a second, but then I assume such women rarely get that sort of attention.”

“Come come,” Rodney admonished her. “You make it sound as if she was unattractive when she is nothing of the sort. Peter here was highly taken with her, and I can understand why.”

This was sounding more and more like Donna had been here, to the Doctor’s ears; so that only left one question for him to ask. “Who is Peter?”

Both Rodney and Caroline stopped sipping their drinks and regarded him in stunned silence. Then Caroline offered an answer. “Why, you are Peter.”

“Me?!” the Doctor spat out, pointing at himself. “I’m Peter?”

“Yes you are,” Rodney agreed. “By my word, that blow must have been nasty!”

“It was,” Caroline confirmed. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that we need you to give an interview at eleven o’clock.” This last part was directed towards the Doctor.

“ **I** have to give an interview?” he queried. “Why do I have to do that?”

“For your DVD, darling,” she supplied, blowing out an angry breath. “It’s the reason you are here, to show off your magic skills.” Seeing his eyebrow raise in surprise, she added, “Once you are done, a car will whisk you back to your _friend_ waiting for you in the hotel, and you can resume your tête-à-tête.” 

Choosing to ignore her obvious disapproval, the Doctor asked Rodney, “My friend; what was she wearing?”

“Oh uhm, a cardigan of some sort, jeans and trainers,” Rodney replied with some reluctance. “I don’t tend to take notice of these things. But she was very noticeable for her curvaceous figure. I wouldn’t mind her keeping me warm in bed! Peter, old chap, are you sure you are feeling well?”

“No, to be honest,” the Doctor lied. 

But before he could offer an excuse to leave their company Sally announced to all and sundry, “The gentlemen from ITV are here for the television interview, Mr Le Strange.”

Caroline stood up and stage whispered at the Doctor, “Then you’d better hurry up and be okay, because you are about to earn your keep.” 

‘Thanks for nothing,’ he immediately thought; and then devised a plan.

~0~0~

Sitting comfortably in his hotel suite, Peter had been determined to remain the perfect gentleman as Donna gradually regained her strength as they sat on the settee in his hotel suite watching television and eating their meal. It would have been so easy to just take advantage of her weakened state; but where was the fun in that?! He wanted her, that much was true, but he also wanted her to desire him in return. If his intention was just to fuck the nearest body he might as well have bought one of those sex dolls from Japan. As it was, he suspected that his road manager had ordered one for him as a joke Christmas present; he was sick of being such a source of amusement for his friends and employees. It implied a shallowness that he didn’t want to own up to anymore.

And sitting next to a divine creature that had no knowledge of her attractiveness was proving to be intoxicating for him. She was all he could think of in that moment; all he cared about. The rest of the world could go sod itself, for all he cared. This was his moment to be graced by an angel. Yes, he really did think of her as a heavenly body; or certainly one that was unworldly. Every now and then he glimpsed an ethereal quality, daft as that may sound.

He knew this wouldn’t last; couldn’t last much beyond this evening; but he savoured every precious second. This was a wonderful dream, and he didn’t want to wake up from it yet.

“What are you looking at?” Donna asked him, blushing self-consciously as she sat beside him watching the latest edition of Graham Norton’s show.

“Just you,” he softly admitted. “Are you feeling any better yet?”

“Yes thanks,” she gratefully acknowledged. “How many rooms have you got here in this place?” She swept her gaze around the room with open curiosity.

“Why don’t I give you the grand tour now that you’re feeling okay,” he suggested, and stood up with elegant ease to hold out a hand towards her in invitation. “Come on.” 

She took it, and let him pull her up to stand beside him. “I’d better put my shoes back on,” she commented and looked down to try and seek her shoes out from under the settee where they had been pushed earlier before their meal.

“There’s no need,” he assured her. “And I think you might like some of the views,” he continued, trying to entice her further. “If you can bear to look somewhere other than me,” he leaned in to tease.

Inevitably she giggled at his silliness, but he pleased to see that she allowed him to keep hold of her hand.

“I think you’ve got enough self-admiration for the two of us,” she retorted. “Just get on with the sightseeing tour.”

“For you anything,” he gushed, and flung open the first door. “This is the second bedroom, where any possible guest sleeps. That door there leads out on to the balcony; but it’s a bit dark to go out there yet. And this one…” He turned to the ornate glass one next it. “…I think you might like this room, judging by the sort of holidays you said you’ve had.” He gestured for her to help herself.

Half expecting a tanning booth or something, she thrust her hand out in order to enter the room. 

“Oh look! A swimming pool; you’ve got an actual swimming pool in your room!” Donna squealed with delight as she pushed open the frosted panelled door.

It wasn’t a massive pool, not by the standards she was used to swimming in when she gained her divers licence and nowhere near the size of the one in the TARDIS; but she hadn’t been expecting a public sized pool. In fact she hadn’t been expecting anything beyond the size of a hot tub, and this was incredible to find in a hotel suite. The whole room was tastefully tiled and decorated with potted palms; and it had a vaulted glass roof that revealed the stars in the sky above. It was exquisite, and she clapped her hands in glee.

“Why yes,” Peter answered with a knowing grin. “Do you fancy using it?”

“Don’t be daft,” she immediately admonished him. “I can’t go around having a swim whenever I fancy it. Anyway, I don’t have a swimming costume.”

“That doesn’t have to a problem. There’s a way around it. We could always try skinny dipping,” he suggested, bobbing his eyebrows at her.

She gasped. He couldn’t mean it really, could he? She shook her head, fervently; and a modest blush appeared on her cheeks. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that. We hardly know each other and I wouldn’t even do that with…” The Doctor’s name stayed caught on her tongue, as though to say it would defile his character. 

Peter eased forward, gently encouraging her to enter the room properly and stand by the pool side. “I’m tempted to say you obviously are not as good friends as you claim to be if you couldn’t envisage skinny dipping together,” he quietly argued. “We don’t have to be naked. All we have to do is remove most of our clothing. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” He peered intensely at her. “Or I could ask the concierge if there is a bikini or something you could borrow, if you like?”

The note of hope in his voice was not lost on Donna; she was already fantasising about swimming in the cool clear water that beckoned so strongly. Her resolve began to waver.

“It’d be no different to borrowing a scuba diving wet suit,” Peter continued, speaking deliberately softly. 

“It’d be wrong,” she weakly protested, still gazing longingly at the water.

Hmm, he was sure he had a t-shirt and some shorts that would fit her, somewhere hidden in a drawer. “Then I could alternatively offer you some underwear to use and get wet. Such items can always be easily dried out,” Peter tried again; using a different tactic this time. “That way your original things would stay dry.”

Keeping her cool, Donna reached into her pocket and checked her mobile phone. There was still no message from the Doctor, despite all the earlier messages she had been forced to leave him on his answering voice mail. Goodness knew when he would bother to get back to her with an answer, especially if he had found yet another blonde to entertain him. 

Oh sod it! Why shouldn’t she have a little fun with this Peter bloke? It wasn’t as though she’d ever see him again, was it? He’d be flying back to his bat cave in Las Vegas very soon, and she’d be back with the Doctor in the TARDIS… if she ever found him again, that is. If the worse come to the worse, she could always beg this Peter for a temporary job as his personal assistant to escape the ‘I told you so’ wrath of her mother.

Having made her decision, she turned to Peter and announced, “Alright, I’ll swim in my underwear, as there is no way I can get away with displaying nothing once I’m wet.”


	5. Chapter 5

The TV producer stepped forward to greet the Doctor and then proceeded to introduce him to every member of her small crew. Adam, the interviewer, was the easiest one to spot from a distance, and the Doctor found himself shaking hands with the human equivalent of a Ken doll whilst taking in all the subtle little ploys the man used to try and gain the upper hand. 

The man clasped his outstretched hand with both of his as he boomed, “Peter! It is such a pleasure to finally meet you. I see that you’ve changed your casual look.”

The Doctor followed his gaze and realised that this Adam chap was referring to his hair. “No, not changed exactly,” he answered as he waited patiently to retract his hand.

“It’s a good look on you,” Adam continued. “Are we set?” he then asked Martin the cameraman.

Martin gave him a thumbs up; so the Doctor casually sat back in the seat they had assigned him and waited to see what would happen next. The small crowd of onlookers were silenced and then a countdown commenced.

“Peter Vincent, thank you so much for being here. Welcome back to London,” Adam gushed in the Doctor’s direction.

“It’s good to be back,” the Doctor cautiously answered, hoping that not too many compliments would be thrown in his direction. “Thank you for asking me.”

“You’re looking very well. Do you often change your style?”

The Doctor smiled at that. “Not nearly enough according to some, but even I like a little variety.”

“Does that variety extend to your show?”

“I think you can expect the same level of magic as usual, Adam,” the Doctor schmoozed him.

“What about your assistants?”

“I don’t use that term anymore. Haven’t done in years.” The Doctor was clearly puzzled by this line of enquiry.

“But you’ve surrounded yourself with beautiful women as usual,” Adam pressed.

“I have been accused of that, but I choose people for their special qualities.” 

“I’m sure some are waiting for you to display your unique qualities,” Adam commented.

“Mine?” the Doctor quizzed.

“Like your ability to summon and control fire,” Adam supplied.

“Who would be expecting that?” the Doctor wondered out loud when he really shouldn’t have done.

“Your fans, Peter,” Adam retorted tightly.

The Doctor had clean forgotten that this Peter Vincent fellow might have fans to entertain. All he’d been thinking about was how quickly he could escape this interview farce and this irritating television crew with all its petty demands.

~0~0~

Donna fully expected to display everything once she was wet, eh? Peter’s eyes immediately focused on her chest as his mind weighed up the truth of her words. Yes, anything wet on her would cling and show up her abundant assets as if she was the winner of a wet t-shirt competition. But the prospect of it was already causing some extra bodily interest! He was one small step nearer to seducing Donna, and the thought pleased him enormously. “Do you want to strip here or in the bedroom?” he gleefully asked instead.

“I erm…,” she stammered, suddenly hesitant about this idea again, and unwilling to give him a striptease. 

Internally he chuckled but externally he took pity on her. “How about I go into the bedroom to change whilst you stay here and slip into the water? I’ll bring a robe for you to use afterwards.”

She smiled with relief. “Thank you. I don’t normally go about doing this sort of thing. Not that I’m some wilting violet…”

“Obviously not,” Peter eagerly agreed. The woman before him had shown her bravery that evening; but this situation was different. Any woman can be vulnerable when alone with an unknown man. From what she had said he guessed that her relationship with this Doctor friend was not sexual and she didn’t tend to use her sexuality as a weapon of manipulation, unlike some women he knew. In that respect she was a breath of fresh air; and he found himself wanting to prove to her that she was incredibly attractive to any man. Placing a gentle kiss on her cheek but wanting to do more, he whispered, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

They exchanged a glance that spoke of promises and confidentialities, and then he left her alone to disrobe.

~0~0~

“The fans…? Oh yes, the fans will love what I’ve done with the show. It’s a unique concept,” the Doctor waffled on, not knowing what the show entailed in the slightest.

“But don’t you worry about the possible satanic content?” Adam Levine pressed. “Vampires are not normal fodder,” he added when the Doctor quirked an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“Oh, vampires!” the Doctor exclaimed with understanding. “Much misunderstood creatures; haemovores by nature and nocturnal due to extra-sensitivity to certain parts of the light spectrum.”

He didn’t notice the conspiratorial glance the interviewer and the cameraman passed each other, because his attention was on the sudden appearance of a different creature entirely as it scurried about in the corner. It was creeping about and looking increasingly hungry. Would Donna have been safe when it appeared earlier?

“Right.” Adam grinned inanely. “Is there one single special lady in your life yet?”

“Yes, she’s brilliant!” Then the Doctor noticed a certain gleam in Adams eye. “Why? What are you implying?”

Adam shrugged as innocently as he could. “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” the Doctor startled Adam by suggesting, “since you seem to know a great deal about this P-… I mean me. How would you describe my attitude towards women?”

Ah, now this was a topic they had been dying to bring up and grill Peter Vincent about; and now they were being presented with a golden opportunity. “Some might say that you completely disregard women and sexualise their vulnerability in your act,” Adam eager commented.

The Doctor stopped peering at the Diklometron, as it sought cover far too near to Caroline, and gave his interviewer his full stunned attention. “Really?! In what way?”

“Well…” Adam began, giving this some thought. 

“Go for the kill,” the producer ordered him through his ear piece. “Get his reaction to the rumours.”

“You are very rarely seen with a woman more than once, even if she is an employee of yours; and you’ve been through a few! If the rumours are true, you treat girlfriends as a disposable commodity. Some have even speculated that you are hiding latent homosexual tendencies.”

“I’m not gay, I assure you,” the Doctor mumbled as he carefully watched the Diklometron dance between the legs of the television crew. “Excuse me, but could you step to your right for just a moment? The rest of you stand well back!”

Caroline let out a scream as vicious teeth attached to a Mr Potato Head body leapt up in front of her; its intention was clearly to bite her.

With a flick of his wrist, the Doctor produced the sonic screwdriver from out of his breast pocket and aimed it at the Diklometron. A bright blue light beamed out and the creature sort of stuttered.

“What the hell is that?!” the producer quietly wondered as they all stared in fascination. She hoped that the cameraman was getting all this on film. 

Ignoring all the humans, the Doctor crept closer to the dazed Diklometron, who was well aware he was caught in a trap and considered pleading for his life. “You do not belong here, Diklometron. I will return to whence you came!” the Doctor declared, and fired a bubble of time closure around the creature. It fought frantically against its confines but the Doctor paid that no heed. Instead he quickly adjusted the sonic and sent the Diklometron back to the TARDIS using a low level transporter beam to retain it in a null pocket of space.

To the un-paying audience it was as though it popped out of existence. They all loudly clapped their appreciation of this unusual trick.

Confused, the Doctor lifted his head to regard them all standing there like circus seals. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the hotel.”

“Your car is waiting outside to take you, Mr Vincent,” a man he hadn’t seen before announced; so the Doctor allowed himself to be ushered away and shoved into a limousine sitting outside the house.

The interviewer immediately turned to camera. “There we have the proof that Peter Vincent is an unusual magician and is always worth seeing in the flesh,” he said. “This is Adam Levine, for London Tonight, in central London.” He waited for the signal that the camera had turned off, and then commented, “Where the hell did he get that mud balloon monster made? It was convincing, I’ll give him that. Almost worth a BAFTA nomination.”

~0~0~

Peter returned a short while later wearing nothing more than a dressing gown and his underwear, carrying the spare hotel robe from the bathroom. He was acutely aware he was being watched as he hung Donna’s robe and then his own on a convenient peg on the wall before turning to reveal his body. The blush that appeared momentarily on her face pleased him, as did the fact she quickly averted her gaze. Oh yes, this was completely workable if he wasn’t stupid enough to frighten her off and mess things up.

Easing himself down into the water, Peter tried not to eye Donna standing in the pool by the steps as though he was a predator; but it was hard not to in the circumstances. He was sure his boxer briefs were already clearly announcing his interest in seeing her semi naked. Hell, any man would be aroused by the sight of her! She was the very embodiment of Aphrodite; beautiful, and erotic, in her matching bra and knickers. It was as though a magnetic field was drawing him closer and closer. All he wanted to do was adore her. Then she lifted her head demurely to tentatively smile at him, and he was absolutely lost; he realised. He’d have done anything, been anything, just to gain her approval. 

Without thinking, he eased forward and placed a tender kiss upon her lips.

“Don’t!” she cried out.

“Why?” he wondered in hurt tones. “I’m sorry, Donna; please forgive me.”

His words were regretful but he hadn’t moved an inch away from her. In fact he might have moved even closer still; unbalancing her carefully built equilibrium. She mustn’t find him attractive, she just mustn’t! It would be the most disastrous thing in the world if she did. Mainly because it would throw a spanner in the works between her and the Doctor. 

Except this man before her clearly wasn’t the Doctor. They may look exactly the same but in every other way they were different; especially with the way he continued to look at her with lust-filled eyes. Eyes that were increasingly becoming hard to resist. Every nerve within her was screaming out to embrace this situation. Her breath came out in little puffs as she felt her excitement grow.

“You’re forgiven,” she murmured as she became painfully aware how close his mouth was to hers. He could have swooped in and stolen another kiss at any second, she idly noticed; you know… if he had wanted to. “It’s me.”

“What do you mean it’s you?” he inevitably asked.

“I shouldn’t be doing this with you.”

“Which part of this shouldn’t you be doing?”

“The kiss,” she reluctantly admitted, averting her gaze again. 

“Then it’s okay to be this close,” he pondered. “To hold you,” he added, wrapping his arms around her body, and pulling her closer still. “Is it wrong to want to do this?” He smoothed his nose along her jawline, sniffing in her scent as his hands gently caressed the skin on her back.

“No,” she gasped out, loving his tender touch.

“Then tell me, Donna,” he begged as his warm breath wafted over her mouth, “what do you want me to do next?” 

His soft cheek against hers was almost her undoing before those full lips of his ghosted across hers, promising so much in such a small gesture. “I want…,” she stuttered out.

His voice mesmerised her as he encouraged her to express her wishes. “You want…?”


	6. Chapter 6

They were sharing breaths now, pressed so close together that she felt compelled to breach the gap by smoothing her hands up his chest and wove her arms around his neck; thus drawing him into her own personal world. “I…”

The words she had planned stayed on the tip of her tongue as her mind went completely blank.

She had absolutely no idea what her argument was going to be, but it didn’t matter in that moment. What mattered was the fact he was offering himself, the words to reject him had been knocked out of her and she was willing to take him. As if drawn by invisible threads their mouths met, lips crushed against lips, tongues touched tentatively, and sighs were exchanged. 

Wet kisses met desire as they moved together, placing tender touches, soft gasps punctuated undulating lips. Donna didn’t care that Peter looking like the Doctor was too close for comfort; she didn’t care that this fed into her own personal fantasy where the Doctor swept her away; all she could concentrate on was the fact that two very full and luscious lips were kissing her with passion.

‘Doctor,’ she inwardly groaned before she could stop the thought. So she opened her eyes to remind herself who exactly she was snogging in such an intimate setting.

Peter merely grinned tenderly at her before shutting his eyes again to resume their tryst. This was turning out to be better than he thought it would have been. Hunger had driven him on to prise open her lips and taste her tongue; gliding together with infinite smoothness. Her skin against his was intoxicating. When had it ever felt this way, caught in this perfect bubble? 

On and on they continued to kiss and be kissed, cocooned in the warm water as their arousal grew. Pleasure had to be sought, in whatever way it could. They were slowly grinding their lower torsos together; he had sought to lift her leg to rest almost as high as his hip on his upper thigh, and his length pressed hard through their underwear, teasing her on.

He felt so _good_ , pressed into her flesh; and she had involuntarily opened her thighs wider to give him greater access as they humped each other in the water. What wouldn’t she give to be able to do this properly and break this sweet torture?

Her hands had just begun a dance of lust across his body, kneading his bottom when nimble fingers released the catch of her bra, and it slipped off her body with hardly any encouragement. But Donna wasn’t shocked or disgusted; far from it. Peter raised her against him to try and suckle a breast but the water quickly hindered his efforts; so he used one hand to smooth his fingertips to tease the aroused flesh of her nipple to peak and hardened. “Sorry love,” he muttered his apology as he inadvertently pushed her backwards and against the edge of the pool, creating a dull thud of brief pain.

Before she could reply or protest in any direction, she found herself being lifted out of the water and held in mid-air, propped up on the wide tiles that edged the outline of the pool.

“How…? You must be very strong to do that,” she told him, increasingly impressed with his physique.

“I have to be fit, it’s part of my act,” he simply explained whilst inwardly crowing his delight. “Now let’s grab the moment and move a few things out of the way so that we can get back to the business in hand.”

She tried to stay his fingers by making a grab for his hand. “Oh I don’t think…”

“Sh-sh-sh,” he crooned, gently batting away her efforts. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Promise. I’m going to help you relax now.” ‘Probably by getting you off,’ he commented to himself. He was in no hurry now, and was very pleased with how things were progressing. Soon she would be his for the taking, and he aimed to enjoy every second of making her so. 

Feeling her slightly tremble with the cold, he reached out towards a nearby chair in order to drag something white, cotton and fluffy nearer and began to towel her upper body, wrapping it around her shoulders before slowing as he got to her breasts. A small kiss was placed on her right breast and he bent to caress her legs; reverently sweeping a finger over her bite mark. Then the towel was dropped from his grasp, leaving Donna to hold it to avoid shivering from the temperature difference, and he continued to kiss a path across her chest, ending by suckling a nipple that grew erect and taut under his ministrations. A grin immediately appeared on his face when she inadvertently let out an amorous moan. 

“And now for these,” he announced, and after much physical persuasion of the tugging kind that caused her to complain, eventually slid down her knickers.

But her protest was muffled by the sensations he caused in her body by pressing kisses onto her lower stomach, and she involuntarily thrust her pelvis forward. “Don’t,” she warned out of embarrassment; but he ignored her. 

To her surprise he continued to trail small kisses along her skin, setting her senses on fire. And then he brought up his hand to tentatively stroke her intimately with a single finger.

She immediately gasped. “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? Now sit back and enjoy this,” he ordered.

Immediately she felt his finger stroke more confidently, creating extra heat when she felt his warm breath flutter over her groin as he concentrated on his task. He lifted his head to give her a heavy-lidded, lust-filled stare, smiled lusciously and then returned his mouth to her breasts. The towel was dropped and forgotten in an instant. Oh my god! No one had ever done this for her in quite this way before, and she was eager to experience this. It was like no other sexual experience she had ever had, as tiny flicks on her clit sent her senses aflame. Ardent moans escaped her mouth; gaining volume when he carefully entered her using a finger to seek out the bundle of nerves of her G spot. The double onslaught of mouth and fingers was almost too much; and she climaxed some minutes later with a loud shout.

She was panting heavily and flushed when he leaned back to survey his efforts. Just as he wanted her to be; ready, wet and waiting. “That went well,” he happily noted. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Then her eyes widened when he slid down and then pulled his underpants off his feet; leaving him naked before her in the pool. “We can’t, Peter,” she anxiously stammered out.

“Why not?” he softly wondered, with a pout. Reaching back for her, he placed his hands on her bottom and firmly eased her body forward into the water and, therefore, into his embrace. “We can do anything we want.”

“Because it’s not allowed… we don’t have a condom for a start,” she argued. Although she realised keeping a tight grip around his neck and having her legs wrapped around his waist wasn’t exactly going to win her points with a debating society. 

The tease then ducked under the water with her still clamped around his body; causing her grip to tighten rather than lessen. “These things can be provided,” he whispered, “if we need them.” Then he kissed her deeply.

The sensation of being completely naked together in the water was truly fabulous as they effortlessly glided along. It was liberating, and she never wanted it to end.

Seconds later it did, as his back hit the shallow steps at the other end of the pool. When had he been swimming backwards? She hadn’t noticed that; just the reassuring feel of skin against skin. At once she was acutely aware of him pressing into her stomach, seeking entrance. “I can’t risk getting pregnant; I just can’t,” she cautioned him. “We’ll have to stop.”

Her fears were easily quelled.

“Sh-sh-sh! It’s okay, love. I have what we need; just give me a bloody moment to grab one,” he reassured her with tender touches to her face. “When I promise to fuck someone, I make sure they get fucked.”

Releasing his hold on her, he stood up and out of the water; giving her a magnificent view of his aroused body. With three swift steps, he climbed out the pool and rummaged through the pockets of his dressing gown. Obviously having found what he needed, he headed back towards her, grinning triumphantly from ear to ear.

~0~0~

“How much further?” the Doctor anxiously asked the driver of the limo as they passed several well-known landmarks.

“Not far now, mate,” the driver assured him. “In fact it’s just up here.”

“Thank goodness for that,” the Doctor readily sighed, and sat back from the edge of his seat.

The driver peered at him thoughtfully in his rear view mirror. “You seem very keen to get back to your suite tonight, if you don’t mind me saying so, Mr Vincent.”

“Yes, well… there’s something I don’t want to miss,” the Doctor answered as vaguely as he could. “You know how it is.”

The driver certainly knew how it was with Peter Vincent, according to the rumours. “Doug said you have a lovely woman ready and waiting for you.”

“She certainly is special,” the Doctor agreed. But his temper was starting to get the better of him now. “Did this Doug see her enter this hotel?”

“Oh yes,” the driver eager supplied. “Doug is the one in the blue tie.”

“Oh yes,” the Doctor pretended to remember. “Well thank you for bringing me here tonight.”

“My pleasure,” the driver good-naturedly replied. “Will that be all for this evening?”

Evidently the poor man wanted to get home to his wife and family. So the Doctor cheerily told him, “Yes, I won’t be needing you again.”

“Have a very good evening, Mr Vincent,” the driver called out as the Doctor stepped out of the limo and gazed up at the grand hotel before him. 

Somewhere in there was Donna; and he was determined to rescue her from the fate Peter Vincent had in mind. All he had to do was find out where exactly she was. Taking in a deep sniff, he detected an extremely faint odour of her perfume that lead in through the impressive main doors, so he strode into the hotel lobby.

The receptionist immediately jumped to attention when he spotted the Doctor. “Mr Vincent! I didn’t see you leave our establishment again this evening. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes there is,” the Doctor answered, taking in the man’s words. “I had a slight accident, hit my head. Nothing too life threatening,” he added when the man looked concerned. “But I seem to have forgotten my room number,” he added, with a rub of the bump on his head.

Sympathy flowered on the receptionist’s face. “It must have been very nasty, sir. You are on the very top floor; suite 21002. Would you like me to escort you up there?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” The Doctor waved him off and marched up to the lift, giving the button a firm press. “I can take it from here.”

“Very well, sir,” the receptionist smiled; and then made a note of the injury as the Doctor stepped into the empty lift.

He hated such cramped conditions. And he equally hated heavily mirrored spaces. It made it look like an attraction in an amusement park. As the lift sped upwards he adjusted the odd wisp of hair. Well, he couldn’t have Donna criticising him for looking scruffy. That wouldn’t do at all. As he was checking his tie for the third time the lift stopped and the doors opened. Cautiously he stepped out onto the landing.

It was quite spacious, considering, pleasantly decorated and reasonably bright and airy. There were only two doors to choose from but he already knew which one to head for. There was a scent trail to follow that clearly denoted Donna Noble had walked that way. Plus he also knew which room had been booked in Peter Vincent’s name now. That helped too.

Checking that no-one was watching and not really caring about the CCTV camera that was probably covering his movements, the Doctor reached into his pocket and drew out his sonic screwdriver.

There was a flash of blue light, a buzzing sound, and then the lock snicked open. With a gentle push on the door, he was in.

~0~0~


	7. Chapter 7

“You’ve gone all goose-bumpy,” Donna commented as Peter re-joined her in the swimming pool and she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fucking cold out there,” he agreed. “Warm me up, wench,” he joked, and pulled her close to his chest.

“You sod!” she protested with a token gesture of pushing him away.

Needless to say, he wasn’t going to be distracted from his goal now, and he swayed their bodies together in time to the soft music that wafted in from the lounge on the other side of the door. “Let’s warm each other up,” he suggested, bringing his face next to hers and pressing their cheeks together. His hands slowly smoothed over the skin of her back, tracing unknown paths before heading southwards to tantalise her senses.

Donna let him coax her into a trance-like state, held within his loving embrace, loving the way he made her feel and never wanting this moment to end. Lifting her head, she peered into his face and caressed a fingertip along his jawline. “You’re very good at this. No wonder you earn a decent living as a magician. This is a lovely illusion,” she gratefully murmured.

“Shit! Don’t be like that,” he tightly complained. “I know you won’t believe it, but this means something to me; you mean something to me, Donna.”

Inevitably she snorted her scorn.

“No, honestly you do,” Peter insisted, ghosting his lips over hers. “I’m not going to suddenly propose, declaring my undying love or anything; but this moment… This is special.”

“Special?” she gently queried. “Special in what way?”

It was hard for him to not flinch away from the vulnerability in her gaze. Normally he would have run as far as he could from any women who demanded any emotional attachment from him; he just wasn’t made that way. People come, and people go. It was a fact of life; especially with the way his life went. And they tended to hurt you if you let them. Yet here he was with a woman he had only met a few hours ago, drastically aware of a connection between them that could promise all sorts of treats and delights in the future if he let it; if she let it. They obviously both had their own trolley-load of personal baggage to cope with.

So he shrugged his shoulders in denial. “Fuck knows. But there’s just something about being with you,” he reluctantly admitted.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she disparaged, smiling her resignation.

Indignation flared in him. He didn’t want her thinking so little of herself; not now. “I’ve never said that to anyone before,” he confessed; his voice barely above a whisper.

She batted at his shoulder. “Geroff! You’ll be telling me next that you’ve fallen madly in love with me.”

That broke his resolve. He had to prove to her the truth of his words. “Never,” he breathily repeated, and kissed her. “When I say I never have, I mean it. Only an arsehole would lie to you.”

  


It started out as such a tender kiss, full of sweetness; and she happily accepted it. But having made one confession, his body was eager to add another one as it acted on his need for intimacy; and that need overwhelmed him. This didn’t have to remain casual, this could go further, be more than a one night stand if he played his cards right. “I want you,” he groaned out.

“Yes, oh yes,” she moaned in agreement.

The water made barely a sound as he guided them back into the warm depths of the pool. They clung together, moving as one, hands smoothing over flesh, caressing, exploring, adoring in turn as their mouths touched in gasps and sighs.

“I do have one question,” Donna stuttered out as Peter pressed enticingly into her body. “How are we going to avoid drowning?”

He groaned in frustration. “By turning into fucking fish. Are you saying that you want to take this into the bedroom?”

“I'm saying that it might be a safer idea if you want any other position,” she retorted.

The saucy sod deliberately thrust in further. “Why? What were you offering?”

“Well,” she considered thoughtfully, “if I go on top you’d end up breathing water at this rate.”

“That’s true,” he conceded. “Let’s go find ourselves somewhere more amenable. And then you can show me what else you had in mind. But first I want to...” He then backed her up against the wall of the pool, gripped her bottom with both hands, and rocked his hips as he pumped fervently.

She clung onto his shoulders, digging her nails into his back and gasping for breath as he took possession of first her mouth and then her body. A whimper forced its way out as he urged her on.

The walls reverberated with their loud cries of passion.

  
~0~0~

The Doctor stood in the doorway and sniffed. He could still smell Donna but her scent trail was heavily masked by the odour of chlorine; the sort normally used in swimming pools. Surely there wasn’t a pool this high up in a building? Then he heard the faint sound of splashing. She could be drowning, or being attacked, or both.

Frantic with worry, he ran towards where the sounds led, and his fear grew exponentially when he heard groans. Groans that seemed to be from pain and effort. Was Peter throttling her? Beating her up? Or even something far worse? He almost didn’t want to push the door that had been ajar fully open and see the horrors within.

“DONNA!” he called out as his hand landed heavily on the doorframe.

The glass door slammed against the wall behind it, hoping to startle the occupants of the pool, but he was out of luck. All he saw was a single slipper floating on the surface of the pool, a large puddle with a trail of wet footsteps and an empty room. Where was she?!

Furious and frightened, the Doctor hurriedly decided to search each and every room. In fact he would have searched the whole hotel if it came to it in his quest to find Donna. Unable to cope with the swirl of emotions it evoked in him, he turned tail and stormed out to pace the living area. All the arguments to say something, do anything, to stop the images in his head and rationalise the scenario he had found, raced for attention as he gripped his hair in agitation.

  
~0~0~

Fervent kissing in the bedroom was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a man calling out a name. The couple hastily stopped fondling one another as soon as they realised it came from within the suite.

“What the fuck!” Peter reacted by dragging himself out of his bed to confront their intruder; but first he made sure Donna had on her dressing gown before donning a towel. There was no way he was going to give the bastard the satisfaction of being faced by a furious naked man, and nor would he allow them to see his woman like some pervy feature in a nude peep show.

Fury exploded out of Peter, but Donna was completely mortified to see the Doctor standing in the middle of Peter’s lounge area looking extremely formidable. How the heck had he got in? Why hadn’t he just knocked on the door? And whatever should she do now? Had she blown it with him forever?

Inevitably Peter glared at the man standing before him so confidently. “Fucking hell! Piss off out of it, you sick bastard! Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

To his annoyance, the man merely waved at him with a plastered on cheery grin.

“Hello! I’m the Doctor,” he declared.

“And who the fuck might that be?” Peter angrily bit back.

“I’m the man who is taking Donna away from here,” the Doctor explained, reaching out towards her, “and away from you.”

Peter protectively stepped in front of Donna. “Oh no you fucking ain’t!! You can’t just waltz in here and demand that people go with you.”

  


“Peter, it’s okay,” Donna deliberately spoke softly, and tried to placate him with a gentle touch on his arm. “This is my friend, the Doctor. I told you about him.”

He swung his attention onto her. “You didn’t tell me _this_ about him!” Peter spat at her. “I know there was all that business in the bathroom, back when we met, but…”

“What did you do to her?” the Doctor growled menacingly in a low voice as his imagination tried to go into overdrive concerning what the ‘business in the bathroom’ could be.

“None of your fucking business!” Peter yelled.

“Donna?” the Doctor queried, seeking some sort of confirmation, anything, to stop him worrying and take away his growing impulse to kill Peter Vincent on the spot.

“I erm…” She gulped nervously. “I found him in a bathroom, slumped on the floor, and I thought he was you.”

“I’d been sick, if you really must know,” Peter added with much disgust. He could feel himself being judged for his earlier actions. “It happens sometimes.”

“Did he do that to your leg?” the Doctor cried out having noticed the gash that ran down below her knee.

“No, I’m okay. It wasn’t him but one of those dinky things,” Donna reassured him as he hurriedly knelt to closely examine the wound.

With gentle expertise, the Doctor ran his finger over the laceration and then pulled out his sonic screwdriver to scan it. “All signs of poison have gone,” he commented; clearly impressed. “How did you purge the wound?” he wondered as he looked up at Donna, keeping a possessive hand on her knee.

  


“It was Peter who found a way. He had some holy water in his pocket and a crucifix.”

Peter felt pride as she credited his involvement; and was also beginning to feel a little left out in this scenario as he watched the Doctor continue to kneel at Donna’s feet and generally make himself look a fool. “I’m a vampire slayer,” he supplied in explanation when the Doctor bothered to look at him. “The gear’s part of the normal weaponry. This fucking little brown hot water bottle thing jumped out and bit Donna on the leg, so I stabbed it with a cross. It worked,” he added with a satisfied smirk.

Highly irritated, the Doctor asked, “Why did you come here?”

Donna quickly answered in order to quell the anger she could feel radiating off him. “To recover and have a bite to eat.”

“And the nakedness?” the Doctor queried, pointing to Donna’s dressing gown.

“Oh! We erm… we had a swim. There’s a pool in this suite. You ought to see it, Doctor.”

“No thank you.”

His face was blank; set in stone. It really worried Donna. “I’ll get dressed and then we can go home.” She hastily ran into the nearest bedroom. “Have you got a carrier bag I can carry my wet underwear in, Peter?” she nervously asked when she re-joined them less than a minute later.

He made no reply but started to search through various drawers and cupboards in the kitchen area of the suite.

Nothing had been said during her absence, but the Doctor in particular looked like thunder. “What happened to your underwear? Did it get ripped off?”

Trust him to worry so, she thought. “Don’t be daft! It got soaking wet when we went swimming, of course.”

“I see,” he said tightly.

Peter reappeared with a bag that he handed to Donna whilst shooting the Doctor a cautious look. “Here you go. Is this it? Are you off now?”

“Yes.” Donna looked quite contrite.

“Do I er... get to see you again?” Peter enquired, trying not to sound too hopeful in front of the Doctor.

“I don’t know,” she honestly answered. These things were always so uncertain.

The Doctor drew in a sharp breath. “I’ll let you say goodbye, and wait for you outside by the lift, Donna.”

“Thank you,” she gratefully murmured. “Peter,” she softly started to say once the Doctor had gone through the door. “It’s been lovely knowing you, and I doubt that I’ll ever forget tonight.”

He stepped closer and held her within his arms. “But you’re telling me this is it. Our time is over,” he stated forlornly. Caressing her cheek, he dipped forward to kiss her one last time. “Goodbye, my angel,” he whispered.

She smiled, and returned the kiss. “Goodbye Buffy.”

~0~0~


	8. Chapter 8

It was a short walk out of the door of Peter’s hotel suite, but it felt like it was far more than that as Donna walked towards the Doctor. He had been watching and listening to their farewell, that much was apparent; but she knew he would only comment on it once they were safely back home in the TARDIS. 

As they travelled down in the lift she tried to decipher his mood. ‘Pissed off headmaster’ was the best label that came to mind, although he tended to label himself as the Oncoming Storm, according to his adventure stories. The fact was he had had to come and find her, she had gone off with someone else, and now she was being led back for punishment. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, holding back on her anger for the time being. It wasn’t as if she was expecting a proper answer anyway from him, so the look of disapproval wasn’t exactly a shock.

The Doctor didn’t trust himself to answer her. One half of him wanted to grab her by the throat and demand to know why she chosen to be with that joke! The other half wanted to beg her forgiveness and declare his love very loudly. Neither action would do him any good, so he kept schtum.

The harsh light in the lift did nothing for his scowl in the mirrored walls; it made him look even more grim. If the Doctor was feeling cheerful, he’d have been rabbiting on; if he was excited he’d have been dancing about and talking nineteen to the dozen. But alas he was none of these things. Instead he was sober, quiet and avoiding looking at her as they travelled downwards. That meant rage, real rage and not indignant seething. 

Even when the doors pinged open and they entered the hotel nothing was said as they strode across the marble-effect floor and out through the brass framed doors into the outside world. The Doctor merely nodded his head in the direction he wanted Donna to follow him, and they marched away along the wet London pavement.

They were unaware of black-lined eyes following their progress down the road.

High above them, Peter had gone out onto his balcony and watched them walk away on the street far below. After he had been careful to switch off all the lights in order to avoid being detected, obviously. They were easy to spot because a street lamp caught the rich shade of Donna’s hair as she passed underneath it, and Peter found himself yearning to caress his hand down her long locks.

Should he have run after her, saved her from the walking sulk that accompanied her; done something, for fuck’s sake, to stop her from just disappearing out of his life?! Or should he just chalk it all up to experience and have it as a savoured note in his diary? It would be logical to since he would not be staying in England for long, when all was said and done. The place didn’t feel like home anymore, it was just somewhere to have memories about. 

He shook his head in wonder; he was going soft in his old age. Getting upset over a woman, for goodness sake! A woman he had known for only a few hours too. He had been blinded by his lust for her, ridiculously so. When he would tell his PA to seek Donna Noble out in the morning he had the feeling he’d be laughed at, and rightly so, in his opinion. But he had to see her one more time if he could. Convince himself it was a deluded fantasy rather than some fanciful quest for the perfect woman. Such a woman didn’t exist, he knew that; but he had come close to finding her, his heart was telling him… or his dick. One of them was yelling at him in that moment and he’d be blowed if he allowed himself to be dictated to in such a way. 

With a confident sniff, he leaned back from the railing and strode back into his suite. Within seconds he was faced with the crumpled sheets on his bed and his mood took a nose dive as his face equally crumpled in horror. What had he done?

~0~0~  


The journey home was fairly uneventful; and quiet. Uncomfortably quiet considering it was them. Normally conversation was the least of their worries. It usually just flowed naturally between them, but it was all rather stifled as they neared the nook where the TARDIS was parked; and they warily avoided their true feelings.

Donna was worried that the Doctor suspected the truth. What was she thinking? Of course he would work it out; he was brilliant at that sort of thing. He probably already knew her guilty secret, and the shame of that was weighing heavily on her spirits. Any moment now he would chuck her out for being such an idiot. Yeah, judging by his current state her days onboard the TARDIS were numbered.

As for the Doctor, he had more than partially guessed it. His thoughts kept veering on to the evidence presented before him when he had entered Peter Vincent’s hotel suite. Donna had been naked apart from a dressing gown; and Peter had been equally naked. The smell of sex and arousal had been incredibly strong despite their efforts to wash it away from their bodies. It had acted like a huge signpost when he had touched her skin. 

If that wasn’t his entire present problem, there was the sensation of observing Donna; knowing she had no underwear on as they had journeyed home. The lack of a bra in particular changed her body profile, and the cool night air obviously caused a reaction, he noted. It must have felt odd having the cloth of her trousers and jumper pressed intimately close to her skin; and for him the thought was both arousing and punishing in equal measures. 

Repeatedly, he came to the same conclusion: he couldn’t have her; not now, not ever. Whatever his desire may be, it didn’t matter because she belonged to another. And the killer thought was that she had chosen someone who looked just like him; in fact, exactly like him. Did this mean that he might have been able to woo her? That hurt. With an inward sigh, he realised he had been so near and yet so far. Just when he had grown more confident that he could finally say something to her about his inner feelings he had lost her to another man. The bitterness it evoked burst into his mouth; and he grimaced. 

Unfortunately Donna caught the expression on his face before he could plaster on a false one, but she interpreted it as him still being angry with her for going off and him having to find her. This nothingness between them had to stop, so she took matters into her own hands.

“What happened to the shrinky dinks?” she asked when the silence around them bore into her conscience.

“The Diklometrons were dealt with. One was killed by your so-called friend... Peter, and the other was held within a temporal bubble. I disposed of him before I found you,” he explained tightly as he opened the TARDIS doors for them to enter.

‘So I was left till last,’ she thought and didn’t say. “Nice to know somebody can get your attention,” she deliberately muttered instead as she walked in, knowing he’d probably picked up the strains of it as he tossed his coat on a strut and then headed towards sending them into the vortex.

With the usual flurry of movements, they dematerialised and started to drift in space. The silence between them within the TARDIS limped on, and indignant outrage made an appearance. 

Who did he think he was kidding by faffing about with the console settings? It was time to face the truth and get it all out in the open. “Out with it, Spaceman,” Donna demanded. “I can’t stand this any longer. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” the Doctor asked as he evaded her question. “Nothing is wrong. I’m alright.”

“Yeah, of course you are. That’s why you are desperately fiddling with that dial when all it does is turn the hot water tank on and off,” she countered.

Oh. He stopped mid-action to weigh up his options. “It needed kick starting,” he defended his actions. But she was frowning heavily at him and standing with her hands on her hips, thereby pushing that delicious unfettered bosom towards him. “Would you believe me if I said I was going to run you a bath?” It was worth a chance, surely.

“No,” she sighed. “Come on, Doctor; you’re going to have to admit it sooner or later. Why are you so annoyed me?”

He visibly winced. “I’m not annoyed with you.”

“Oh yeah! All this sulking about and pouting when I’m not looking is you not being angry with me,” she blazed.

He rounded on her; his own anger rising. “I’m surprised you managed to notice any reaction of mine.”

“Well, since you buggered off and left me completely on my own, I suppose I would!” she shot back.

He snorted in scorn. “Didn’t take you long to find someone to supply some company though, did it!”

“What are you implying exactly? I came looking for you and I stumbled across Peter being ill in a bathroom. Yeah, I really went out on the pull,” she sarcastically commented.

“That’s what you managed to do,” he mumbled.

Her temper flared. “What’s it to you anyway? You always manage to pick up some stray woman as you investigate stuff. Feeling a little bit jealous that I can find companions too, are we? The pretties aren’t for your eyes only.”

“Pretties?!” He gasped in horror. “I only encourage people to do their best whereas you apparently encourage much different behaviour.”

“Meaning?” she threatened with a growl.

Oops! He hadn’t meant to say any of that, but he was on a roll now and couldn’t stop the venom. “Meaning I do not seek out sexual conquests.”

She glared at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, Sunshine, but I don’t tend hunt down possible shags either.”

“Then why did you?!” he spat out.

“Why did I what?” She stood daring him to say anything derogatory. 

In exasperation, he blurted out, “Don’t try and pretend that you did not have sexual relations with that man!”

“I am not pretending anything,” she insisted. “What makes you so sure?”

“Oh Donna!” He stood and shook his head as he tutted. “I could smell sexual arousal as soon as I opened the hotel door.”

Damn! He had known after all. “I’m not denying the sex part... Although why I’m even discussing that with you is beyond me. And I’m ignoring the fact that you broke into that hotel suite like a common thief. What I want to know is why do you think I’m pretending anything?”

He growled, “Then answer me this, Donna Noble. Why did you go to his room?”

‘Because he asked me. Because he made me feel good. Because he’s sexy. Because he wanted me. Because I can never have you but for a moment it was as if I did. Because...’ “I dunno,” she said instead. “I’d hurt my leg, he rescued me from a hungry gremlin and then offered food. It was innocent enough.”

He stepped closer and menacingly asked, “Then how did you end up in his bed?” 

“Well,” she began to answer, and wondered how truthful she had to be in that moment. “The usual way.”

“Which is?”

“It just happened,” she offered.

He shifted nearer. “Tell me.”

“We erm...” She eyed him cautiously, knowing she had to get this explanation right. “We had a lovely meal. He showed me the pool and I absolutely raved about it. You know how I love swimming, Doctor.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Peter suggested I had a dip, and of course I said no.”

“Of course,” he sarkily echoed.

She chose to ignore the sneer in his voice. “I mean, you need a cossie, so he... I decided to swim in my underwear seeing as he was going to do the same.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “You stripped?!”

“Not in front of him! What do you take me for?” she squawked. “Anyway, we got in the water and....”

“And?” he wanted to know as he felt his hearts break.


	9. Chapter 9

_“Anyway, we got in the water and....”_

_“And?” he wanted to know as he felt his hearts break._

“He kissed me,” Donna stated as simply as she could.

“He kissed you? That’s hardly grounds for starting a sexual relationship otherwise we would have been bedfellows immediately after we visited 1926,” the Doctor scornfully pointed out.

She frowned. Why had he brought that up? “There are a few major differences between the two of you. He ain’t taken, for a start. And he fancies me.”

“How am I taken?” the Doctor spluttered in confusion.

“Don’t talk wet,” Donna admonished him. “You told Martha when you met her after first seeing me that you and Rose were together.”

He threw his hands up in defeat. “Of course I said something like that! I didn’t want Martha wasting her time trying to think we’d have a romantic relationship together.”

Did that mean he lied to Martha? She hesitantly considered, “Are you saying that you and Rose never...”

“Never,” he denied fervently. “Not in any physical shape or form, before you ask.”

“Oh! That’s a turn up for the books.” She then calmed to say, “I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t presume in future,” he scolded her. 

She pulled a comical face. “I think I can safely say you don’t fancy me though,” she confidently stated, feeling that their argument could officially be over now by doing so. “Do you want some tea?” she then asked and turned to walk away towards the kitchen.

He shot out a hand to halt her progress away from him, grasping her wrist firmly as he backed her up against the pilot seat. 

Startled, she slowly regarded his hand and then swept her gaze up to his stern face. “What did I do now?!”

“I said not to presume,” he restated. 

“What? I can’t guess the truth now?” she asked him incredulously, refusing to be intimidated. “Do be serious!”

“I...,” he tried to explain but the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come, so he released his hold. “This Peter... Please, Donna; I need to know,” he almost begged.

She visibly sagged, realising she’d have to actually say it and justify her actions. “Okay, you’d find out eventually, I suppose. We did more than kiss. There! You have it! Do I need to draw you a diagram?” she indignantly demanded.

His hearts constricted in pain within his chest. Why was she being so defensive? “No,” he forced out.

When he looked so heartbroken with those puppy dog eyes of his, she thought she understood, and added more softly in sympathy, “I’m not leaving you for him. It’s not that serious, honest it ain’t. It was just a one off, never to be repeated, so you don’t need to kick me out.”

Kick her out?! “Why would I do that?” he wondered incredulously.

“I erm…” She bit her lower lip anxiously. “For being an idiot,” she admitted.

“You are not an idiot, Donna Noble,” he told her sincerely, and wondered why tears sprung instantly into her eyes.

Relief flooded her, and she sniffed in order to not cry. “You are so sweet,” she declared, bringing her hand up briefly to touch his shoulder. “I’ll go make you that tea.” 

Embarrassed that she might have overplayed her advantage, she hurried away to put the kettle on before he could change his mind.

The Doctor stood there for some seconds, wondering what had just happened.

~0~0~

He found Donna bustling about making the tea in the kitchen, and was enjoying the view until she suddenly stumbled, almost scalding herself in the process. Lurching forward, he grabbed her injured hand and placed it under the cold running tap, despite her protests that she was okay. With tender touches, he made sure her skin was unmarked before he turned the water off; but he held onto her hand to stop her from continuing making them tea.

“I think I need to check on your bite mark,” he decided. “Go and remove your trousers so that I can have a look, and I’ll bring you some tea and perhaps a biscuit if you can face it,” he firmly but kindly offered.

To his surprise she readily agreed. It worried him even more, since this implied she was not feeling well and her protests had been entirely for show.

Giving her a few minutes to change, he filled a tea tray with some goodies and swung by the med bay to pick up a few basic supplies for her wound. When he entered her bedroom, she was sitting obediently on the bed without her trousers, but nothing else had been removed; although she had obviously gained a fresh pair of dry knickers. To his amusement, she did seem rather concerned about pulling down her blouse in order to cover her briefs as she half reclined on her bed. A professional attitude and humour was the best route to deal with any possible misunderstanding that could lead to any further embarrassment, he decided.

“Nice socks,” he commented as he put his tray down and handed her a cup of tea.

“Thanks,” she mumbled in reply, and twirled a foot to contemplate her pink spotted garment. “You can borrow them if you like.”

“Erm… I suspect that I might be too big for them to fit,” he considered as he sat down next to her on the duvet.

She desperately tried not to think how else he might be too big, and a blush crept across her skin. “Probably,” she conceded. “Have I done any lasting damage?”

“To what?” he asked distractedly. Seeing so much naked flesh against the background of Donna’s bedding, and the promise of what was under her straining blouse, was starting to do things to him. Things that were not allowed.

“To my leg, you div; not my sock,” she giggled. 

“And there was me thinking I’d have to amputate,” he joked.

She smiled, relieved that his bad mood had dissipated. Gawd knew why it had, but she was going to make the most of it. “Have I got off completely scot-free?” she asked. 

“Well,” he drawled, “there might be unknown complications.”

“Such as?” she inevitably wondered.

“If I knew, they wouldn’t be unknown,” he jested, and laughed when she swatted his arm.

“And to think you call yourself a doctor,” she grouched, “you’ve not even looked let alone touched me yet. Typical!”

“Oh I intend to look,” he assured her, and placed his cool hands upon her knee to bring it up close to his view. He even brought out the brainy specs as he considered the bruising wound that now spread from just below her knee to above it on her thigh, and ignored the amused smile that she tried to hide from his gaze. “I’ll clean it up for you but I suspect that the only lasting effect will be drowsiness thanks to the fast thinking actions of your friend Peter.”

“Or him shagging me,” Donna mumbled before she could stop herself. What had possessed her to say that word, especially since the Doctor had clearly got over his anxious spat? “Yeah, I am a bit knackered,” she confessed more loudly, and then cringed at her own word usage. She really wasn't doing herself any favours with this one! 

The Doctor halted his finger movements on her leg and kept his eyes fixed on looking at his task as her words pierced his hearts. Perhaps it was the after effects of the poison determining her words. He may have smelt sex and arousal but that didn't necessarily mean they'd gone the whole way, although the trace of silicon belied that slightly... 

The thought was instantly stuffed away to where he couldn’t consider it. “You must be very tired,” he agreed as he lifted his head to allow himself to look deep into her eyes; those mesmerising blue eyes with their ring of fire. In that moment he didn’t care about anything except the fact she was safe within his care, and she was easing herself forward to rest her head on his shoulder and wrap her arms around his waist. His eyes slid shut in joy as he soaked in the situation. “Yes, obviously tired,” he added, eagerly returning the embrace.

“Just a bit,” she muttered at the end of a massive yawn. “Not that anyone would notice.”

He chuckled as she dipped further into sleepiness. “You need to rest properly, young lady. Let’s lie you down,” he gently proposed. His attempt to guide her backwards onto her pillow had her fervently holding onto him for grim death. “I take it that you want me to lie with you a while?”

“If you want to,” she quietly confirmed, not relinquishing her hold for a second; but the truth was that she was enjoying being held and petted by him too much. It soothed her more than she would have ever thought after their earlier argument and her intimate evening. 

Within seconds she was sound asleep.

~0~0~  


Donna woke up slowly to see the early morning light dappled on the bedroom wall, warmly aware she was being cuddled and caressed languidly. The Doctor tenderly stroked her hair, watching her rouse herself.

A certain topic was playing on his mind. “What was so special about this Peter?” he softly asked while he had the chance.

“Well…. He _is_ a lovely kisser,” she sleepily replied.

“Is that all?”

She slightly shook her head. “No. He is also tender, gentle, and considerate.”

“I see,” he tried not to huff. “If he is so great a lover why didn’t you stay with him?”

“That’s easy to answer.” She smiled wistfully and snuggled more into his chest. “He isn’t you.” 

Pride bloomed in his hearts. “Not me?!”

“No, definitely not you. I said I was going to stay with you forever and I meant it. Nothing has changed.”

So many ideas danced around in his head. If she had chosen him over Peter that might mean she would possibly want him in the same way one day! Okay, perhaps not, but it gave him new hope as Donna continued to snuggle into his chest. Picking up a lock of her hair, he twirled it lovingly around his finger and greeted her slowly opening eyes with, “Good morning, beautiful!” Catching her quizzical look, he quickly amended it to, “It’s a beautiful morning, apparently, according to the weather forecast.”

“Which one exactly?” she wondered as she lifted herself up onto her arms and he reluctantly released his hold.

“Oh, you know,” he stammered, giving his neck an anxious rub. “Whichever place we choose to go to.”

“You’re not in trouble,” she pointed out after sitting herself fully up in the bed. “It was kind of you to stay with me. Thank you,” she added with great sincerity. “I could get used to this.”

He giggled at her teasing tone. “So could I. So... if you ever want us to sleep together again...” He immediately blushed as he saw a crimson flush creep over her cheeks. “Not necessarily in that way, not that I’m dismissing the possibility or positively striving towards it but...” He blew out his cheeks in frustration. “Blimey, this sharing a bed has complications!”

“Tell me about it,” she sympathised, reaching out to take his hand in comfort; and they shared a relieved smile. 

Feeling more than happy with this turn of events between them, they planned a slow morning of taking a leisurely breakfast followed by pottering about for a while; each of them hoping that this would gradually lead up to a much yearned for kiss as a new understanding settled on them.

~0~0~

It was Sylvia who picked the phone up.

“Is that the home of Donna Noble?” the man on the other end asked.

“Yes,” Sylvia cautiously answered. “Can I take a message? She isn’t here at the moment.”

“I’d rather talk to her myself. Could you tell me when she will be home?”

“Ooh, I don’t know,” Sylvia admitted. “She is rather busy working odd hours.”

“Please,” the man begged, “would you get her to ring me on this number?”

“Hang on and I’ll get a pen,” Sylvia told him and scurried off to grab a notepad. “I’m ready. Fire away.” She listened intently and then repeated the phone number back. “And who should I say rang?”

“Peter. She’ll know who I am,” he insisted. 

“Donna,” Sylvia began her phone call to her daughter later that day, “I’ve had a message from a young man called Peter. And you’ll never guess what!”

Donna steeled herself to hear what he had possibly said to her mother. Hopefully it wasn’t the whole truth of their encounter. “I dunno. What did he say?”

“He left a phone number for you to contact him, and as for the rest… I really think you should come and look for yourself.”

“I’m not sure I can, Mum,” Donna warily answered as she peeked towards where the Doctor sat looking at her. “What do I need to see?”

There was a gasp of joy on the other end of the line. “It’s beautiful! And to think I was miffed by you turning up on the news the other night.”

“Whoa, reverse up there for a moment. I was on the news?! Why on earth was I on the telly?” Donna blurted out in horror.

“How the hell should I know? I had the sound turned off at the time, but it was clearly you on there, coming out of some posh place with the Doctor.” Sylvia couldn’t hide the sneer in her voice as she said the Doctor’s name, and she feared she never would. “No doubt he was leading you astray again.”

“Mum, I keep telling you, he does not do anything of the sort! He protects me.”

“Says you,” Sylvia grumpily disagreed.

When they got there the place was filled with bouquets of flowers. “Oh my gawd!” Donna softly exclaimed. “I seem to have picked a winner.”

With bemusement and a certain amount of pride, she carried them all into the TARDIS and set them up in the lounge, library and her bedroom.

“Oh no,” the Doctor complained. “This cannot do.”

“Why?” Donna inevitably enquired, tilting her head like a puzzled puppy. No doubt he would offer some sort of allergy story to insist she dumped her prize.

Instead he shook his head and said, “This means that you might have forged an emotional attachment to this Peter fellow. May I see?” 

He stepped expectantly closer and held up his hands close to her face, just like he had done on the Oodsphere. 

“I suppose so,” she reluctantly acquiesced. “But I’m not sure what you’re looking for, or how opening my mind will help.”

His eyes briefly closed and then shot open again as his fingers held onto the contact points on her temples. “You formed a sensual bond with him,” he gasped out.

“Well, we did something, that’s true,” she bashfully admitted.

“You let him touch you because of… me!” he slowly realised as he felt her emotions, and looked quite pleased with himself for a second. An angry scowl then appeared on his features. “He took advantage of you!”

“No he didn’t,” she defended Peter. “I let him touch me; it wasn’t a case of him taking advantage once I knew he wasn’t you.”

“If I let this bond between you both continue you will suffer greatly from detachment,” he acknowledged.

“In what way?”

“Depression, sickness, lower immune system, anxiety, and loneliness.” He then tried to weakly smile at her.

“Sounds a hoot,” she commented. “Got a cure for all that in your magic box of tricks?”

“I have actually,” he proudly declared. “If I replace it with a stronger emotional bond then you will suffer no ill effects.”

He was still holding on to her head and gazing deeply into her eyes; so it seemed sensible to ask, “How would you do that?” If he had the cure for a broken heart then she wanted to see it.

“Like this,” he murmured, and leaned forward to touch her lips with his.

Those lips were so soft as they landed on her mouth, moving incrementally with tender touches. He was aware of her hands pressing a trail from above his hearts upwards towards his neck, caressing his throat and then his nape and shoulders. His own hands had slipped from cupping her face to embedding his fingers in her ginger tresses, holding her head so that his lips could feast on her taste. She opened like a flower seeking the sun beneath him, letting his mind enter hers and share the sensations their mouths were experiencing. He hardly gave her a chance to draw breath before he plundered her mouth once more, tracing his tongue over the contours of every surface before sliding it over her tongue to taste her growing arousal.

It was true! She had wanted him as much as he had wanted her; and it had led her to seek out an experience thinking he was not interested. The shock of that thought caused him to break their kiss and grumble low in threat, “I’ll kill him!”

“No, please don’t,” she tried to appease him, knowing full well that he was capable of a terrible revengeful action. “It was my fault for thinking I could use him to get over my feelings for you. Punish me, not him or yourself.”

“Punish you, eh?” He grinned devilishly at her as a plan formed in his mind.


End file.
